The G Word
by twinkletoestbh
Summary: Team Foster-Keefe to the max. Basically, Keefe has commitment issues and Sophie can't deal with it anymore. Written because I needed a little Foster-Keefe to get me through all the Sophitz in The Matchmakers, and inspired by Rory and Logan's fight in "Gilmore Girls." :) Enjoy!


**Girlfriend**

 **A Rogan inspired fanfic.**

I knock on his door, my heart in my throat and my stomach rolling. I feel like I'm going to be sick all over the sparkling silver walls and floors. It's a familiar feeling, not unlike the feeling I get when I kiss him. Except this time, I'm not here to kiss Keefe. I'm here to break up with him.

If you can even call it breaking up. Can you break up with someone if you were never dating? Keefe and I have a casual relationship, a string of meaningless hookups, an open, chill fling that I am 100% over and ready to end.

I catch the lie as soon as it enters my thoughts. I'm not ending it because I'm ready for it to be over. I'm ending it because I need it too much. Over the past month, I've become dangerously attached to Keefe, and it has to stop.

But at the same time...am I really strong enough to let him go?

I almost turn on my heel and walk away right now. I almost chicken out. But he opens the door before I can make up my mind. "Foster!" he says, his voice betraying his surprise. Then his expression morphs into one of delight. "I wasn't expecting you. Come on in! Have a seat!"

His smile is infectious, I can't help my own as he backs out of the doorway to let me past him, despite the somber news I've come to deliver. This is the reason I can't keep up this whole 'no-strings-attached thing. Despite what I've been trying to prove to my family, to my friends, to myself—this just isn't who I am. And I really like Keefe. The problem is, he doesn't like me in that way. Sure, he cares about me as a friend—I think—but romantically I'm just another one of his gaggle of girls, another meaningless makeout session. If I let myself get in any deeper, I'll be asking to have my heart broken. And whatever I am, I'm no masochist. I've been through enough pain in my seventeen years, and it's better to break it off now than to keep punishing myself by pretending I don't care about him.

Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself.

I sit down on the couch, while Keefe locks the door. The suite-style dorm is quiet, but I can hear water running in the background. It's probably Fitz or Tam taking their morning shower. At 1pm on a Saturday. It's probably Fitz, since Tam seems the type to sleep the entire day away. They probably all had a late night last night, although when Keefe sits next to me on the couch, he looks like he's been up for hours. His hair is washed and carefully combed, he's dressed in rather fancy clothing for a Saturday afternoon, and those lips…

His eyebrows raise and his lips twitch into a smirk, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Which, as an Empath, isn't too far-fetched. "As much as I enjoy you checking me out, what are you doing here, Foster?"

My eyes flick up to meet his and my cheeks flush, which only makes his smirk cockier. "Keefe…" I look up into his icy eyes, and the pure blue hue distracts me for a moment.

"What's the matter?" he asks, worry temporarily shining through his cool exterior. Then he locks his emotions back down and leans in, his voice going low and smooth and suave, like it always does before he kisses me. "Imp got your tongue?"

I open my mouth to respond, but I can't seem to find the words. He doesn't give a chance anyways, because then his lips are on mine and his fingers are in my hair or mine are in his—I'm not really sure—and I've completely forgotten why I came. All that exists is this moment, me and Keefe, and the terrifying realization that I may be falling in love with him.

Until a voice calls out "Keefe, I couldn't find the towels, so I thought I'd just…oh!" A voice that is unexpectedly feminine. A voice that definitely didn't belong to Fitz or Tam. Or Biana or Linh, the only girls with a reason to be in the apartment.

I'm so startled by the interruption I jump, accidentally biting Keefe's lip. "Ow!" he hisses, lifting a hand to his mouth, but I hardly notice. I whirl on the couch to look behind me…and immediately look away. It isn't just a girl standing in Keefe's doorway, it's got to be a naked girl. A very wet, very naked girl.

Of course.

My entire body burns with a combination of embarrassment, humiliation, and—strangely enough—jealousy, as she claps her hands and giddily asks "Oh, did you change your mind about adding another to our party?"

I try to steady my ragged breathing, biting back the traitorous tears that gather in my eyes, but do not spill. I can't even look at Keefe as he tells the girl, "Just a second, Nemea," but I can feel his eyes drilling into my head. "The towels are in the cabinet above the toilet. Why don't you go get dried off and dressed?"

I can practically hear the pout in the girl's voice as she groans, "You're no fun." But her wet feet pad slowly back into the bathroom, and the door creaks closed.

"Sorry about that," Keefe says, and I jump as he puts a hand on my shoulder, and my eyes flick up just in time to see his eyes flutter shut. If he thinks that I'm going to just ignore the fact that his very wet, very naked hookup from last night just walked in on us, he's got another thing coming.

I put my hand on his chest to stop his before he can kiss me again to distract me. "This isn't working."

The words shock both of us. The unexpectedness of the proclamation doesn't mean I mean the words any less. Still, I'm not prepared for the wariness in his gaze as his gorgeous eyes flicker open.

"What's not working?" he asks, caution and confusion blending in his tone.

"This." I motion between us with my hand. "Us."

"What do you mean 'us'?" he asks, his brow creasing in confusion.

Shoot. 'Us' was the wrong word to describe our…relationship. But there was no going back, not now.

"This whole 'friends with benefits' thing." I bite my lip as I try to find the right words. "I just…I can't do it anymore. I don't like it."

"What do you mean?" he asks, exasperatedly collapsing back onto the couch. "You're the one who wanted this."

"I know. And thank you for humoring me, but I don't want to do this anymore." My voice is quieter than I like, but he still hears it.

"I didn't make you do this."

There's a knock on the door, and I half expect him to stand up and answer it, but he doesn't move, doesn't look away from my face. "Keefe, I'm not accusing you of anything."

"It sure sounds like you are."

"I'm a big girl; I make my own choices. I made the choice to start this, and now I'm making the choice to stop."

"Why?" he asks, his eyes searching mine. "I thought everything was going well."

I heave a thoroughly defeated sigh. "I think you know why. I'm a girlfriend kind of girl."

He runs a hand along the back of his hair. It's no longer nicely brushed. I must have mussed it up when he kissed me, and now it's tousled beyond repair. "Well, I'm not a boyfriend kind of boy," he says, sounding slightly irritated. "You knew that when we started this."

"Exactly. You're not my boyfriend, I'm not your girlfriend." As much as I wish you were. "We don't owe each other any explanations."

"I think we do." He looks past me at the gaping door to his bedroom. There is another knock, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Is this about Nemea?"

"No, I just…I don't want to be 'one of the many' anymore."

He grabs my hand, his gaze going hard. "Sophie, come on. That's not fair."

A key rattles in the door, and Fitz pokes his head in. "Oh, hey Sophie. Keefe, Larissa says she's been waiting out here for forever. Is there a reason you haven't answered the door?"

"Yes," he says. So he had heard the knocking.

Fitz looks about as puzzled as I am. "Well, should I let her in?"

"No."

Fitz pauses, his eyebrows drawing together. Keefe's not usually one to deny a girl, let alone request for her to be kept out of his dorm. "Well, okay then, "Fitz says hesitantly. "Larissa, if you wait out here for a moment I'll drop off my books and take you to lunch."

Fitz dashes in, lobs his backpack into his room, and is gone without so much as a "See ya."

Throughout the entire conversation, Keefe's eyes don't leave my face.

And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get mine to look at his. Despite the fact that he's the one messing around with a harem, I can't seem to ditch the guilty feeling that I'm the one at fault. I wish I was a little more like him. I wish I could be okay with having a casual relationship. But I'm not, and I can't. Pretending is just making me miserable.

"I'm sorry, Keefe," I tell him. The walls feel like they're closing in on me and I practically sprint to the door in my eagerness to escape. "Have fun with Nemea. I'll see you around, or something."

"We're not done here," Keefe says. His voice freezes me halfway to the door, and I hear him stand as well.

I turn, confused. I thought I'd been pretty clear. Had he honestly not understood? "I've said everything I have to say."

Keefe spreads his arms. "Which is what? That you don't want to do this anymore?"

"Exactly. I'm a girlfriend, Keefe, not a booty call. I have serious relationships, not drunken hookups."

Keefe makes an understanding sound and nods, then starts pacing. He walks around me in a circle, like a predator stalking its prey, and I turn in place, following his progress with my eyes. He makes no move to fill the silence, and he's making me nervous, so I start rambling on. "I thought I could be different, I tried to be different, and I didn't like it. So I'm going back. And you know, you can go back too, even though you didn't really change much. Or really at all. But I mean, we could go back together. We could just be friends again."

Some dark emotion flashes across his face as he says, "I don't want to be your friend."

I feel my heart shatter into a million tiny little pieces. So this is it. I've lost him. After everything we've been through together, I've lost him.

Well, I'll get over it. If I could get over my three-year relationship with Fitz, I sure as Oblivimyre can get over a few great nights with Keefe. Heck, we haven't even been dating. But at the same time, being with Keefe has always felt so much realer than any of my previous relationships. And I'm going to miss my beautiful, kind boy.

I'm going to have to stop thinking of him as my boy. Well, he's never really belonged to me anyways. He's always been shared. "Or you know, we could hate each other. Or we could just ignore each other until you graduate. It wouldn't be too hard, since you're here in the Silver Tower and I'm still in the main building and all. We'll have to share our friends of course. I could have Fitz on even days, and you could have him odds? And of course we'd have to figure out a way to share the others too, Tam, and Dex, and Biana and Linh. Although Dex and Tam aren't really your friends so much as…never mind. But, you know, I can just tell everyone I won't go to any parties anymore. I hate parties anyways, and people don't really need me there to have a good time."

"Or we could become boyfriend and girlfriend, right?" Keefe asks, his eyes betraying the anger behind his pleasant tone, and he starts to pace faster.

"What?" I ask, stunned. I'm not sure I heard him right at first. Boyfriend and girlfriend? No way… "No, I didn't say that—"

Keefe's glare stops me in my tracks, freezing my heart and making me feel sick to my stomach from the utter disgust in his eyes. "I knew it. I get what you're doing, Foster."

"I'm not doing anything," I tell him earnestly.

"If that's what you want, say it," he tells me, gesticulating wildly as he paces the floor. "Don't come in here issuing your childish ultimatums."

"This isn't an ultimatum," I desperately try to explain, but his movements are erratic and unpredictable.

A seedling of fear burrows deep in my belly as he tells me, "That's not what I heard," his light eyes dark with some undefinable emotion.

"I said 'Let's be friends,'" I try to justify, but he snaps right back, "That's not what you meant, and we both know it."

Why is he making this so hard on me? "That's exactly what I meant," I finally say. I don't know how else to make him believe me. At this point I don't think there's anything I can say or do to convince him I didn't come here to manipulate him.

He looks at me, his eyes conflicted. Then he stops pacing. "Alright fine. I'll do it," he tells me. He covers the distance between us in two hasty steps and before I know what's happening he has one hand on my cheek, the other behind my neck, and he's leaning down to kiss me.

"Do what?" I ask, exasperated now as I press my fingers to his lips, stopping him before he can kiss me. I try to ignore the tingle that goes through my body from his close proximity, but he's already sensed it. I know once his lips touch mine I'll be lost.

"I'll be your boyfriend."

My heart stops beating for a moment, before it resumes frantic and erratic, and my cheeks flush with confusion. Wasn't he just mad at me? But he says it so matter-of-factly that I almost believe him. My heartstrings twang with longing.

But it isn't real.

I let out a nervous laugh. "You can't be my boyfriend," I tell him, shaking off his hands and backing away a few steps. He can't. This isn't happening. There's no way Keefe offered to be my boyfriend. I have to be dreaming. I shake my head and rub my temples.

"Why not?" he asks indignantly, his arms flying wide.

"Because…" I stall as I think up a valid reason other than 'because you're Keefe.' "Because you told me that you can't be my boyfriend."

"I just said I can."

"But earlier you said you can't."

Please stop. You're breaking my heart. I turn my head away so he can't see my face. So he can't see how much this is hurting me. But I know if he pays attention he can feel it through the air.

Keefe scoffs. "That was months ago. This is now."

"That was not even 10 minutes ago," I correct, and he rolls his eyes.

"If I say I can, I can," Keefe tells me, closing the distance between us again. I try to back away, but I bump into the wall next to the door, and he just takes another step forward. My breath catches in my throat as his hand comes up to touch my cheek, the back of his thumb gently gliding along my jaw. Despite myself, I lean into his touch. "Sophie—"

"Keefe, I'm hungry," Nemea announces, coming out of the bathroom. I can just see her over Keefe's shoulder. At least she's dry and fully clothed this time—her dress is incredibly short but somehow still tasteful, classy—but the sight of her still makes me feel sick. Knowing that she'd spent the night here with him, in his bed…my vision blurs and my stomach rebels against my other organs, bile rising up in my throat.

For a moment I'm thankful Keefe can feel my disgust, because without turning around or taking his eyes off me he tells her, "Nemea, I'm sorry, but I can't take you out to lunch right now. I'm spending some quality time with my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Nemea coughs, her cerulean eyes going wide as she meets my eyes over his shoulder. Then they narrow into jealous little slits. "You didn't have a girlfriend last night."

"It's a rather new development," Keefe says ambiguously, waving a hand at her behind his back as he searches my eyes for approval. "The door's right here. Call Fitz or something, I'm sure he'd love to buy you lunch."

Nemea hmphs, stamping her foot before stalking to the door. She gives me a particularly nasty glare before she slams it behind her. Keefe smiles happily at the vibrations, even as I flinch from the noise right next to my head.

"See?" he asks, as if his interaction with Nemea had proved some concrete point.

"No, Keefe," I sigh, pushing his thumb off my skin. I immediately feel a pang at the loss of his warmth, but I have to hold strong. "I don't see."

He looks at me like the answer is obvious and I'm being purposely obtuse. "I just called you my girlfriend."

"To the girl you hooked up with last night."

"Exactly. I'm going to be a great boyfriend."

I roll my eyes. "Keefe, I'm saying no."

Keefe shrugs his shoulder and blows out a long breath. It smells minty, like toothpaste, and I wonder how long ago he woke up, if she'd been in his arms. "Because you think you can't do it or I can't?"

My silence is enough of an answer.

"Looh, Foster," he says, his mouth twitching up at the corner. "You came here to say you weren't happy with our situation, right?"

"Right."

"So I changed the situation."

He seems so pleased with himself, but 'changing the situation' hasn't 'changed' anything at all. It's still one big mess. And despite his assurances, I'm not ready to get my heart broken. He's a playboy, it's in his DNA. If I agree to date him, I'm only going to get hurt.

"Keefe—"

"Problem solved," he insists, interrupting my protest.

"No, the problem's not solved!" I say, frustration laced through my tone. "You just told one girl I'm your girlfriend and you're acting like I should be groveling on my knees. Calling their girlfriend their girlfriend is a normal part of everyday boyfriend life."

Keefe smiles proudly. "And I'm already on my way there."

"No you're not, Keefe. This is exactly why a relationship is a bad idea. You're not ready for something serious."

"Foster," Keefe says, taking my right hand in both of his as he stares into my eyes, a small smile one his lips. "I'm ready for anything you throw at me."

A girl stumbles out of Tam's room, one of his dress shirts hanging off her petite frame. "Keefe!" she squeals. "Tam's still passed out and I'm hungry. Oooh, who's your friend?"

"Corinne—"

"Pretty, pretty please, Keefe?" she asks, but the full force of her wobbling lip and puppy dog eyes are lost on Keefe's back.

"Can you give us a minute?" I ask, stepping out from behind him to smile at her. "We're almost done, and then you can have him all to yourself."

"Of course!" she says happily. "I'll go grab my dress."

"Thanks."

She goes back into Tam's room and I reach my hand over to the doorknob. In one deft move the door is open and I'm slipping outside. "Goodbye, Keefe."

"Sophie, wait!" he says, grabbing my hand and twirling me to face him. "I swear this has never happened before in my _entire_ life, but I want to be your boyfriend. I want to buy you flowers and hold your hand and walk you to class and take you to dinner and do all the stupid things that boyfriends do."

"Keefe—" I protest partly because I know this entire plan is a bad idea, and partly because I know every single one of his neighbors can hear us. And partly because I know he hates the idea of being a boyfriend and there's no way in Exile this will ever work out well.

"Please, Sophie. I don't want to lose you."

"I can't," I say.

"Do you really want to just be my friend?" he asks, his eyes wide and earnest.

I sigh, torn. "No, but—"

"Well, I don't want to ignore you, and you clearly don't want to continue doing what we're doing now. So it seems a real relationship is our only option."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is such a bad idea…

"Unless…do you want to stop seeing me?"

My eyes shoot open. "No, but I—"

"Good, cause I don't want to stop seeing you." His voice goes low and husky again, and I know if I meet his eyes he'll kiss me. And if he kisses me, I'll cave.

I can't cave.

I want to cave.

I can't cave.

"But—"

"Sophie, stop arguing for 20 seconds and just listen to what I'm saying. I like trying new things. The whole 'girlfriend' thing is new, it's different, and I can do it."

I look up into his eyes, my heart feeling like it's close to shattering as I ask, "Are you sure?"

He answers me with a kiss, gentle, and sweet, and conveying everything he's been trying to say. He wants this. And despite how hard I'd been arguing against it, I want it too.

"Well I knew you could do that," I tell him with a careless roll of my eyes when he pulls away. Yes, it's a little tacky, using his signature humor to try to hide how flustered he makes me, but he just smiles against my lips as he kisses me again.

I finally pull away, resting my head on his shoulder as he pulls me closer. I bite my lip, conflicted, and he starts playing with the ends of my hair as he waits for my decision. Finally, I sigh. "I really do want to believe you," I tell him, my voice trembling a little bit as my eyes mist up with feeling. What I don't add is, "I just don't want to get hurt." But I don't need to. I can see that Keefe knows.

"Then believe me," he begs, his smirk gone. His eyes wide and hopeful. "I'll never hurt you." His smirk gone. For once his face is completely serious, and his entire body is tensed with anticipation. When I don't respond, he adds, "What do you say, Foster? Are you up for a new adventure?"

I take a deep breath in to steady my nerves. Then another to steady my palpitating heart. And then I kiss him again.


End file.
